Page 38 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

Chapter Fourteen

Regan

Two days and four pregnancy tests later...

I sit and stare at the test, not believing it. I take another one. And then another.

Still negative.

It doesn’t make sense.

I google early signs of pregnancy. Technically, based on my last period, I’d only be five weeks pregnant. Most sites claim a woman may or may not experience any pregnancy symptoms at that time. I palm my breasts to see if they’re more sensitive. They aren’t. Ihavefelt a little queasy over the past few days. My shoulders slump. Despite the six tests claiming I’m not knocked up by the runaway groom, I know deep down I am.

On my way out of the shop, I turn my sign toCLOSED. I don’t bother setting a return time. I can’t even think about work right now.

As inconspicuously as possible, I walk down McQuaid Circle on this mild afternoon and make my way to the medical complex where my gynecologist’s office is adjacent to the hospital.

Inside, I step up to the front desk. “I’d like to see Dr. Russo please.”

Carrie, the receptionist, looks up. “Oh, hey, Regan. I didn’t know you had an appointment today. You’re not on her schedule.”

“I’m not. But I really need to see her.”

“What’s the problem?”

I know everyone here is bound by that law that says you can’t talk about stuff, but I know how things go. Carrie will go home and tell her boyfriend, Stu. Stu will tell his best friend,Cameron. Cam will tell his poker buddies. Each of those will spill to their wives or significant others. Before you know it, the whole freaking town will be abuzz with the latest hot newsflash: Regan Lucas, single and pregnant, who’s the father?

“Carrie… I just really need to see her.”

She nods. “I’ll try to fit you in.” She smiles cordially. For all she knows, I could be harboring an STI. Or have some other gynecological emergency. I’m sure pregnancy is the last thing on her mind when it comes to me—the ever-single eccentric boutique owner who hasn’t been seen with a man in who knows how long.

I sit in the waiting area, hoping nobody will see me. Then again, I could just be here for my annual. The realization of that has me not so quick to wish I was hiding under a rock.

Time stands still. I glance at the many magazines, infants and babies adorning the covers, and shake my head. How is this happening?

An hour and twenty minutes later, I’m called back. The nurse—a new face in town I’m not familiar with yet—takes my weight and vitals, escorts me to a room, and asks why I’m here.

“I’d rather just talk to the doctor.”

She sighs, and I could swear she rolls her eyes on the way out the door. “It’s not like I won’t find out later,” she mumbles loudly enough for me to hear.

My head slumps into my hands knowingeveryonewill find out later. There are no secrets in Calloway Creek.

The door opens and Dr. Russo comes in carrying my file. It’s a paper file, not an iPad. She’s been my gynecologist since I started going to one. She was my mom’s before that. In fact, she was the doctor who delivered Ryder and me. My guess is that she’s approaching retirement age. Mid-sixties perhaps.

She sets my file on the counter and pulls over the rolling stool. “Nice to see you, Regan. I’ve been told you have a private matter to discuss?”

I nod, embarrassed to have even thought for a second this wouldn’t spread like wildfire no matter who I tried to keep out of the loop. “I think I’m pregnant.”

She smiles. “Oh, well that’s not such a terrible thing, dear.”

“It is if you weren’t trying to be and the father is… well, I just need to know for sure.”

She picks up my chart. “When was your last period?”

I tell her. “Hmm,” she mumbles. “Five weeks ago. And you’ve had a positive pregnancy test?”

“No. That’s the problem. They’ve all been negative. But my periods come like clockwork. And I’ve been nauseous.”

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